Feeling Sparky
by Pearsforgranite1
Summary: You don't spend 17 years as the Sheriff's low-key delinquent son without learning the signs of being tailed. In which Stiles' talents aren't overlooked, though he probably wishes they were due to the intense weirdos he seems to have attracted to Beacon Hills.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N** : I don't know how I got here, but Teen Wolf fandom – hello! I had no idea how entertaining teenage werewolf angst was. I'm especially partial to the Stiles-centric fics.

FYI – I have not seen all of the show. There are some facts that I'm completely making up to suit my whims (like spark and mountain ash stuff) and I've kept a bunch of people (like Allison).

The elven aesthetic I'm picturing in my head is a mashup of Legolas and the elves from 'Bright' (terrible movie, but hot elves…especially that long-haired Detective in the fancy suit. Hubba.)

This is not at all a serious fic. In fact, I think it's probably a little cracky.

* * *

You don't spend 17 years as the Sheriff's low-key delinquent son without learning the signs of being tailed. He had been squeezing tomatoes in the produce section of the grocery store when his Stiles' senses started tingling. Looking up he saw a Legolas wannabe in a dark purple, 3-piece suit staring straight at him from the melons doing a very unconvincing impression of a grocery shopper. Both arms were jutted out in front of him and in each hand was an erect banana. As if he was offering the bananas to Stiles from two rows over. Real creepy.

Feeling perved out, Stiles put the tomatoes in his cart and left the fruits and veggies. Out of his peripheral vision he could see the guy's head turning like an owl's, tracking his movement.

In the relative safety of the frozen food aisle, he took a moment to assess the potential threat. It was Saturday night and he was out buying snacks for the pack meeting currently taking place at Derek's. All the other Avengers were assembled except for him. He had been voluntold to grab food stuffs because Derek, being the muscled, were-hobo that he was, didn't have anything except for protein powder and cobwebs in his cupboards.

Seeing the bespoke guy jarred something in Stiles' hindbrain. He hadn't seen him before, but he's sure he'd seen what must've been his…associates…over the last couple of days around Beacon Hills. They had all been wearing the same outrageously expensive suit. At the bank and then at the Best Buy. As though he had attracted the attention of a very well dressed cult. Stiles was sure they were together. Not only because of the suit, but their eyes; they all had otherworldly, ice blue eyes. Stiles had enough experience with the supernatural to never ignore his instinct. He was being followed.

Parked in front of the frozen perogies, he whipped out his phone and immediately called Scott for backup before Stranger Danger found him.

"Scott!" Stiles whispered aggressively into his phone, hand cupped around his mouth. "I'm being followed!"

He was trying to keep the shrieky hysteria he could feel creeping through his veins out of his voice. Judging by the looks he was getting from the lady in front of the frozen peas, he needed to try harder.

A clearly distracted Scott responded, "Dude, what? – _Isaac, no, man, wait! We're gonna attack the cows when Stiles gets back. We need all three of us to defeat them. He'll be back in a minute. I'm talking to him now._ – Stiles, where are you?"

 _"_ _His p.o.s. jeep broke down again, didn't it? Tell him we don't have any duct tape."_ Stiles heard Isaac in the background insulting his vehicle, but had to ignore him because _priorities_.

"Scott! Listen to me, some creepy pasta is following me around the grocery store."

The click-clacking of buttons from a PS3 controller was the only response until, "Pasta? No, we don't want spaghetti – just chips and Jackson wants redvines."

 _"_ _If he's going full Mom, tell him to pick me up some eggs."_ The slimy smooth tones of Peter's voice ordered.

"Holy _fucking_ shit, Scott! Stop playing that goddamn game!" The shriek had finally taking over Stiles' voice. "Put me on speaker phone, you useless asshole."

Scott let out a wounded sound, but did as he demanded, "Alright, geez. …k, you're on speaker."

"I. Am. Being. Followed." Stiles was careful to enunciate, but resumed whispering lest he be heard by his pasty shadow. "Do you hear me? I am being followed."

Through the phone, Stiles heard Scott drop the controller as he immediately grew serious.

"Stiles, who's following you? Why?" Rustling came through the line as Scott rushed to stand up off the couch, "We're on our way."

Isaac, not really one for Team Stiles, piped up, "Hold on. Why do you think someone is following you? Why the hell would someone follow Stiles?" Realizing his insult, he tacked on a paltry "No offense." towards the phone.

"I think someone's following me because _someone is literally following me_!"

The entire pack, now surrounding the phone, could hear the beating of Stiles' already racing heart grow rabid as he whispered the next ominous words,

"He's found me. Fuck. I'm gonna die in a grocery store by a white-haired freak pushing a solitary banana around in a jumbo cart. _Fuck_. Hurry up and save me, you assbutts!"

Spurred on by Stiles' panic, they surged to leave the loft. Peter was the first one out the door, coat on, and keys in hand. They raced down the stairs, Scott still carrying the phone with Stiles on speaker, but paused when they heard Stiles' start yelling.

"Get away from me, creeper!" They could hear what sounded like bags of chips being thrown, as if Stiles' was using the items from his cart as ammo.

"Go! Go! Go!" Scott forced everyone to keep running as they all kept an ear on what was happening with Stiles.

They heard the crashing of grocery carts as well as the breaking of glass and several dull thuds and splats of items being launched.

"HA! Motherfucker! How do you like them tomatoes! Thought you could just kill me without a fight! Without – uh…"

Stiles manic yelling abruptly stopped just as they reached their cars in the parking lot.

"Stiles! What's happening?" Scott was frantic. "Stiles!"

They heard a soft voice speak in a foreign language (one that had Peter completely freezing in shock) and Stiles sputter out, "uh…thank…you…?"

The voice spoke a few indiscernible words and then left, judging by the sounds of footsteps trailing away.

"Stiles!"

Stiles was silent for a second before answering, confused, "I was just handed a banana and a…rock?"

Isaac let out an annoyed sound and rolled his eyes, instantly abandoning their rescue mission and heading back inside. "Way to spaz, Stilinski."

Peter grabbed the phone out of Scott's hand _"Hey!"_ and asked very carefully, "Stiles. What does the rock look like?"

The tone and timber of his voice had Isaac stopping in his tracks to listen. The rest of the group were looking at a very serious Peter in confusion and worry.

A befuddled Stiles answered, "It's kinda greenish blue with some gold and purple streaks. It's pretty, as far as creeper rocks go."

Scott, trying to assert some True Alpha authority, took over the questioning, mimicking Peter's voice as best he could, "And what does the banana look like?"

Peter rolled his eyes while the whole pack just looked at him like a moron.

"It looks like a fucking banana, Scott. Jesus." Stiles' exasperated voice made Scott flush a dull pink in embarrassment. "Shit. The staff are closing in. I've got to go before they make me pay for this mess. I'll be there in a couple minutes." And with that, he hung up on them.

Not even 5 minutes after Stiles had arrived back and they had all looked at the rock, there was a knock on the door and Alan Deaton entered Derek's loft.

"Deaton?" Scott stepped forward.

"I called him." Peter revealed. "Stiles, show him the stone."

Stiles got up and handed Deaton both the rock and the banana.

After a close inspection of the stone, a gravely silent Deaton looked at Peter, "You know what this signifies, don't you?"

A superior look crossed Peter's features, "Of course."

The pack looked back and forth between the two irritatingly enigmatic men without a clue as to what they meant.

Impatient, Stiles spoke up, "Enough. What does this bullshit mean and can I eat the banana?"

In all the panic of earlier, Stiles never did get those snacks and he was starving. Chucking frozen food items at weirdos was hungry work.

Deaton's focus zeroed back onto Stiles and he wordlessly handed him the piece of fruit.

"Thanks."

Stiles was starting to get really uncomfortable with the way both Deaton and Peter were staring at him as he peeled his banana. Their combined creep factor was too much to handle.

"Ok, what?" Stiles managed around a mouthful of mush.

A vein in Deaton's forehead pulsed at the disgusting view.

"The being who followed you through the grocery store has most likely been tracking you for the last three days."

Stiles choked hearing that information. "I knew it! I knew I had seen other guys in suits the last two days. Why am I being followed?"

"Because of what you are." Deaton stated simply.

Stiles looked Deaton in bewilderment and then looked at the pack for answers.

"An asshole?" Isaac, helpful as always.

Preventing any Stisaac squabbles, Peter answered, "A spark."

He leveled Stiles with a contemplative look and then posed to Deaton, "A rather powerful Spark, if I'm not mistaken."

Deaton inclined his head in agreement.

Having more questions than answers, Stiles asked, "You mean that trick with the mountain ash? Scott's mom could do that. Does that mean she's a spark too? And how would this guy even know about me?"

Deaton squirmed a little at the last question and answered the first two. "That 'trick' with the mountain ash was anything but, Stiles. It was a very impressive and, usually, very difficult channeling and conversion of energy."

Stiles looked surprised and a little bit pleased with this news.

"Melissa McCall isn't a spark. She was only able to close the mountain ash barrier because the mountain ash remembered how to close. It was the same ash Stiles had used. I went and retrieved it after the fight."

Apparently finished his explanation, Deaton returned his attention to the stone in his hand.

As one, the pack looked to Peter for clarification (grudgingly).

A smug Peter elaborated condescendingly, "Mountain Ash is not a sentient matter; however, when Stiles imbued it with the power to close, he essentially gave it a single purpose. That batch of mountain ash will always close now, providing a barrier, no matter who uses it. No future belief will be necessary because it is already primed to close. A werewolf could use it and it would work."

There were both pros and cons to having such a young pack (mostly cons, Peter decided). Looking around he could see that their True Alpha didn't really understand, if the slightly glazed look his in eye was any indication of comprehension. Stiles, as usual, understood immediately and was looking at his upturned hands in semi-amazement. Lydia and Allison both looked rightly concerned with this information, while Jackson and Isaac sat scowling on Derek's couch. Derek himself was looking at Peter as if he was trying to remember something. Peter knew what he was trying to recall.

"Talia spoke of sparks, Derek. She was teaching Laura about identifying potential packmates – what to look for, what to avoid."

As if a lightbulb clicked on, Derek remembered and looked at Stiles in disbelief, relaying what his mother had said, "Sparks are rare. She told Laura that it was unlikely she would ever come across one, but if she did, she was to do everything in her power to add the spark to her pack. And if there was ever a rival pack that had a spark, she was to either kill the spark immediately if she could or turn tail and run. I had completely forgotten."

Scott looked at Stiles in amazement, " _Dude_."

The more they described how badass a spark was, the less Stiles was convinced he was one. None of this was really making sense. Sure, Stiles knew he was bomb, but that was mostly due to his wit, charm, and googlefu. All this talk about power and rarity wasn't resonating with him. He didn't feel powerful. He still felt like the weakest member of the pack and completely human.

Seeing Stiles was no longer looking convinced and excited, Peter tried something.

"Stiles, turn off the tv."

In all the hullabaloo of everything, nobody noticed the television was still on. The weather channel was droning on uselessly about a 50/50 chance of rain and/or sun.

"Turn it off yourself." Stiles was indignant at being considered the pack slave. First the grocery store and now this.

Peter took a deep breath – another tick in the Young Pack Con column – and elucidated.

"With your spark, Stiles. Turn the television off with your spark."

"What the hell makes you think I have any idea how to do that? You want me to just believe that the tv is off and it'll turn off?"

"It's all about energy with sparks. Channeling and converting it. Some sparks, like you, have more dexterity than others and are able to manipulate on a molecular level, like with the mountain ash. Other sparks are only able to use their connection with energy in a manner that is often mistaken for telekinesis."

Deaton decided the rock had been inspected enough and added, "There is a reason you appear to have an overabundance of energy, Stiles. To the point that you've been labeled as ADHD. Because you are a spark, the Earth's energy, which is everywhere, is attracted to you. It wants to be used and because you're not using it, it's essentially trying to get your attention. Hence the 'Attention Deficit' part of ADHD."

"Are you saying that if I were to start being more…sparky, my ADHD would go away? I wouldn't need Adderall?" Stiles looks like his world was being flipped upside down.

With a small smile, Deaton confirmed, "Yes. You'd still be hyper, but your concentration would improve drastically as the energy would know it had your attention and wouldn't be pulling at it."

"What can I do, exactly? Is this kinda like Harry Potter?" Stiles eye grew wide. "Will I be able to fly Voldemort style or do any of the Hogwart curriculum like Transfiguration or…holy shit, will I be able to turn into an animagus?"

"You could be a wolf!" Scott was getting sucked in to Stiles' spiral of crazy.

"Stiles, just turn off the damn tv." Derek interrupted, having run out of patience.

"So rude." But Stiles faced the tv and jumped up and down a few times while attempting to crack his neck and knuckles, as though he was a boxer getting pumped up to face an opponent

"This should be good." Isaac muttered from his spot on the couch.

"You got this, Stiles!" Scott cheerleaded from behind him.

"Thanks, Scotty." Stiles gave him 2 thumbs up.

After a few more seconds of jumping, Stiles did a complex move which involved bringing his hands in towards his stomach, hunkering down into a lunge, and then, with a mighty yell, throwing his arms out towards to tv. Which remained on without so much as a flicker.

"…was that from Dragonball Z?"

"Shut up, Scott."

"Impressive, Goku." Snarked Isaac.

Before Stiles could attempt another fictional move, Deaton stepped forward.

"Remember last week when I had you concentrate on that pendant?"

Scott's inquiry of "What pendant?" went unanswered.

"Yeah."

"You need to do that. Concentrate on the currents around you. Close your eyes and just listen to your heartbeat."

He waited about a minute for Stiles to immerse himself in the energy. While normally Stiles found concentrating difficult, Deaton knew the energy wouldn't pull his attention all over the place since he was trying to forge a connection.

The pack remained completely silent.

"Visualize the energy in and around you. Feel it around your arms, your hands, and your fingers. Create a mental pathway from your fingertips to the television for it to follow. Visualize it channeling through the path and arriving at the on/off button. Now nudge the energy forward to-"

The television clicked off.

Stiles opened his eyes and saw that his right arm was extended towards the television. He had no recollection of having moved it. Once he saw the television was off, he felt the blood drain from his face and he felt faint.

Shakily he asked, "Am I being punked right now? Isaac turned off the tv, didn't he, the little shit?"

He was immediately grappled into a hug by Scott, who was whooping his ever-loving head off.

"That was amazing! Stiles! Do you know what this means?"

Looking at his hands, Stiles let out an incredulous, "You're a wizard, Harry."

Deaton looked to be in a great deal of pain at this statement (he was going to have to train Stiles), Peter rolled his eyes, and Derek let out a groan and went to make himself a protein shake.

* * *

A/N: I hope you enjoyed that. Feedback/suggestions are welcome. Especially since I don't know 100% where I'm going with this.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:**

FYI – The title of this fic isn't completely random. It's from Urban Dictionary and its meaning actually kinda fits with this fic. So I feel quite clever about it. *High-fives self*

* * *

Seeing as Stiles and Scott were too busy staring entranced at Stiles' hands like they held the answers to the universe, it was up to Lydia to ask the pertinent questions. She had caught Deaton's earlier discomfort when questioned how the elves gained knowledge of Stiles.

"How did they know about Stiles in the first place? Especially since Stiles didn't seem to really know about his spark until two minutes ago."

Deaton froze with panic for a split second, but then, resigned, took a fortifying breath and confessed, "They knew about Stiles because of me." Looking at Stiles apologetically, he stated, "It's my fault they're here."

"What?" Stiles' attention was completely focused on the vet. "Is this about that pendant?"

" _Talisman_. And yes, it most definitely was the catalyst."

"How is that possible? We were just testing to see if my spark was still active. All you got me to do was think happy thoughts at a hunk of costume jewelry. The 'Made in China' sticker was still attached. It's just collecting dust in your office."

"Its current location is more accurately placed in London, England, in the possession of a wealthy clan of vampires known as the Vitus clan."

"What?!" A shocked Jackson sat straight up. "They're insane! They're basically the undead mafia in the UK. What the hell are you doing with them?"

"How do _you_ know about them? You were only in London for a summer." Isaac asked from beside him.

"Within the first week they had…introduced themselves." A faint shudder went through Jackson at the memory. "They are very aware of any supernatural activity within the London sect. There was some sort of perimeter spell that was able to monitor any supernatural entities trespassing into their territory." Looking at Deaton he grew pissed, "Their Sire is completely insane. Like, legitimately, mentally unbalanced. What were you thinking attracting them here?"

After a quick glance at Peter, Deaton explained, "I don't believe they are the ones casting overtures towards Stiles."

"Overtures?" Stiles' voice hit a pitch he'd not hit since he was 5.

Peter looked very amused. "Do you need the birds and the bees conversation, Stiles? Well, in this case, I suppose bees and bees conversation would be more accurate."

Stiles and Scott stared at Peter with the same repulsed look on their faces at the idea of a sex talk (a gay sex talk, at that) from Peter.

"Do you want that banana I ate earlier? Cause it's about to come back up."

"It'd be a good prop for my talk, actually."

Lydia sharply interrupted, "Stiles. Peter. You can have tangent conversations later." Turning to Deaton, she demanded, "Straightforward and to the point – _now_."

Under the fiery gaze of the banshee, Deaton hurriedly continued.

"Essentially, I sold (or more accurately, traded) the Talisman to the clan 5 days ago at an auction for the supernatural."

Confused silence met him.

"Uh, that might have been too straightforward." Informed Isaac.

"Is this why you were in New York?" Scott asked, having been left to look after the clinic for a few days a week ago.

"You never once mentioned anything about an auction when you had me emote at that piece of plastic." Stiles felt used and kinda betrayed. As weird and aloof as Deaton was, he was still pack.

Sensing his hurt, Deaton rushed to explain, "Auctioning it off wasn't the original plan. As pack emissary, one of my duties is to be aware of the global supernatural climate. More specifically, monitoring any unrest between beings of power in different countries which could potentially impact us. The most accurate means to measure the global dynamic is to attend what is known as The Market, which is held annually."

"I haven't been to The Market in years." Peter's eyes lit up in reminiscence.

Even Derek perked up a bit at the mention of The Market, having been brought back harmless, yet interesting, souvenirs from the times Talia and Peter would attend when he was a child.

"The main event at The Market is the auction. It is a chance to procure items that would be otherwise unobtainable, such as ancient manuscripts or rare ingredients." Deaton explained. "The items bought and sold can provide significant insight to the state of each clan, pack, etc."

"The selection and caliber of items really is fantastic." Peter interjected. "And the diversity is astounding at these type of events. I heard that there was a demon calling himself 'King of Hell' trying to auction off the moon a few years ago at a smaller auction held in the mid-states. I can only imagine the type of items that were being bid on at The Market's auction. Talia and I would just watch and enjoy the show."

"Yes, well, the rules have changed this year. Entrance into The Market is still straightforward as ever - simply proving you're affiliated with the supernatural is all that is required; however, in order to attend the auction held within The Market you or your clan must have an item for bidding. Multiple clan members may gain entrance based on a single clan-provided item. In previous years, both spectators and participants alike were welcome, now you must be a participant. I was unaware of this change and the only item I had on my person at the time was the Talisman Stiles had practiced on."

Turning to Stiles with sincerity, he apologized, "It was never my intent to expose the signature of your spark to the supernatural community. I was unaware at the time how much energy you had poured into it as my senses are quite dull in comparison to the sensitivity common to most supernatural beings."

Looking like he wanted to believe him, yet still skeptical, Stiles asked, "Why would you be carrying around that Talisman in the first place? Wearing a gaudy, purple pendant isn't exactly your form of self-expression."

"We had a particularly hungry Saint Bernard in the clinic the day before."

"Chipper!" Scott interjected. "That guy eats everything…oh."

"Indeed, _oh_. He had already eaten a latex glove and a pencil before setting his sights on the pendant that I had carelessly left on the counter in the examination room. I put it in my pocket for safekeeping and then promptly forgot about it in the face of preventing Chipper from eating one of the syringes."

Scott got a bit of a goofy smile on his face. "He's got a heart of gold, but the stomach of a trash can."

"And the brain of a bird, apparently." Allison muttered.

"The only other item I had to offer to the auction was my soul."

"Okay, so pendant, obviously." Stiles conceded.

"What did you get for it?" Isaac asked curiously.

"The clan owes us a favour."

Peter, Derek, Allison, and Jackson's eyes all widened and they looked at Stiles in shock. Peter and Derek understood exactly what it meant to have a supernatural clan owe you one. Allison understood because of her training as a hunter and her education covering multiple supernatural etiquettes. Jackson only knew of the brutality of the pack and found it unfathomable that they would place themselves at such a disadvantage as to be indebted.

"What exactly did that pendant do?" Jackson asked incredulously. "Stiles said he 'thought happy thoughts at it', but the Vitus clan isn't one to be indebted for the likes of a useless, hunk of happy plastic."

"As you said yourself, Jackson, the Sire of that clan is insane." Deaton stated, "His insanity is due to the loss of his mate 5 years ago. The death of a mate is enough to drive a vampire feral almost instantly. That he hasn't slaughtered everyone in London is a testimony to his strength. The state of the Sire can impact each member of his clan; if he's strong both mentally and physically, his clan will reflect his strength and if he's weak, it will be reflected in the clan members. His insanity and depression was beginning to hurt the members of his clan, to the point that a few of the newer members had committed suicide. His inner circle were at the auction desperate for a solution. When the Talisman went up on the block, everyone felt the energy. It was like a ripple went through the room. I couldn't feel it myself, but every other being was affected." Deaton's eyes glazed over in memory:

 _Deaton could admit he was surprised he had been permitted entrance on the merit of Stiles' talisman. It was pure luck that it was still in his pants pocket after its near digestion by Chipper. He had a moment of hesitation in surrendering the item when faced with the excitement on the entrance clerk's face, but he really did need to attend. Grumblings of a power upheaval between New York and Boston's numerous supernatural communities had made its way through the country and he needed more information to ensure Beacon Hills wasn't drawn into the potential fray. The auction would allow him to see the parties involved._

 _Through some very impressive event planning there were several hundred members of the supernatural community in the centre where the auction was held. Through some equally impressive mojoing, the supernatural community had been able to overtake a 5-star hotel/convention centre in New York without the non-supers noticing._

 _Rank held no meaning at the auction. The order in which you entered was the order in which you sat. He had arrived earlier than most and was seated in the front third of the audience as approximately 300 people entered after him. The items up for bid were incredible as were the prices being paid. The literal eye of an Egyptian Oracle went for a whopping 10 Million Dollars (nerve still attached), while souls of slaves were being traded for weapons and jewels._

 _Deaton was a little nervous for his item to appear. Accompanying each item came information on the object itself as well as the creator and/or owner. Each item was projected on a large screen for better viewing. When the Talisman appeared with the description the reaction was shocking._

 _The auctioneer read the description and then added, "We of all 'people' know that looks can be deceiving and nothing is truer of this next item. Although cleverly disguised as an insignificant bauble, it is a truly impressive piece. Created by a newly ignited spark, this Talisman bestows upon its owner peace, happiness, and mental stability. It doesn't need to be said; however, that the amount of energy itself is what is enticing. If you have the means, the current purpose of the energy could be amended to suit your needs or desires."_

 _Deaton felt his stomach drop. He was unaware of the Talisman's extensive capabilities or that the contained energy could be warped by someone other than Stiles. A severely worrying notion. He had just unwittingly shone a spotlight on himself, Stiles, and the pack. With growing unease he listened to the excited murmuring that ran through the crowd._

 _"_ _Bidding begins at $500,000 or an item of equivalent value." Upon relinquishing an item to be auctioned, the owner forfeits their right to deny or accept bids. The auctioneer has complete control of the starting bid and the cadence of the biding._

 _The bidding crowd remained strong until they breached 1.5 million when the number of bidders dwindled to approximately 20. At 5 million there were but 2 bidders: an elven clan that Deaton was unable to identify and the Vitus clan members whose leader was infamously unhinged. Their reasoning behind wanting the pendant was clearly to restore their leader's sanity and save their clan with the aid of the mentally stabilizing energy contained within the pendant._

 _The bid came to an end when, in a fit of frustration, the bidder for the Vitus clan bid "A favour of any value to be carried out anytime and anywhere at the McCall pack's request."_

 _The auctioneer waited for the elven clan to counter, but they remained silent, unwilling to indebt themselves to such an extent._

 _"_ _Sold! For a rather dangerous price to #324."_

 _The relief from the vampire clan was almost palpable._

 _"_ _That concludes this year's auction. The items will be placed in order of bidding around the perimeter of the room, stage left to right. If all owners and bidders would please convene at the appropriate item and complete the transaction. Reminder, all bids are final. Thank you and enjoy the rest of The Market."_

 _With that, there was a flash and all the items were stationed around the room. He found Stiles' pendant near the stage and went to meet the bidders._

 _What he hadn't anticipated, but should have, was the crowd that was around the item. Not only were the vampires there (ten of them in total), but the elves who had been outbid, as well as some other curious beings that Deaton had only read about in Bestiaries._

 _Not wanting to show his unease, he strode confidently up to the item and introduced himself._

 _"_ _Alan Deaton, Emissary to the McCall pack, Beacon Hills, California."_

 _"_ _I am Demetrius of the Vitus Clan, London, England. Shall we sign?"_

 _At each item's station was a contract to be signed by both parties in order to render the transaction binding. If either party reneged, then they would be dealt with severely by the market's council. A consequence which was not taken lightly by any of the attendees._

 _Once the contract was signed, the vampires nodded at Deaton and left, clearly anxious to use the energy on their sire._

 _Deaton himself was quite anxious to leave, but the group of elves had him stayed._

 _All five elves standing before him had electric blue eyes and long, snow white hair. They were dressed impeccably as well in very expensive, 3-piece suits that were all jewel toned with paisley vests. Deaton didn't quite know what to think._

 _"_ _May I help you?"_

 _An elf in a dark violet suit spoke, "We are the Islijuary from the Shadow Realm or Khlijuary, in their language. It is an honor to meet a pack member of such an impressive spark." He performed a shallow bow. "We would be equally honored for an opportunity to meet with the spark, in the hopes of forming a potential alliance."_

 _Deaton had heard of this elven clan before. Shadow elves were sought after for their talents in shadow magics, which were highly effective when used in assassinations. An alliance between the McCall pack and the shadow elves would be too loud of a statement to the supernatural community, putting the pack on the supernatural radar. It would be an insult to deny the Islijuary clan; however, it was too much of a risk to accept._

 _"_ _Please forgive my rudeness and know that I mean no insult; however, I must decline your generous offer." At their shocked and slightly indignant expressions (it is usually them having to decline the numerous requests they are bombarded with), Deaton hurried to get away. "If you will excuse me, I must take my leave. It was an honor meeting you, please enjoy the rest of The Market."_

Looking at the pack he explained, "I had no idea they had tracked me. I knew they were interested in Stiles, but not to this extent."

"I've never heard of them." Allison interrupted. "They're not in my family's bestiary."

Peter scoffed, "They're too evolved to be in the records of human hunters. They're from the Shadow realm."

"Realm? As in another dimension?!" Isaac looked like he was freaking out a little bit.

"We really need to start having education sessions because the sheer ignorance in this pack is becoming embarrassing." Ignoring the insulted faces displayed on the younger members, Peter continued, "There are multiple dimensions, one of which is known as the Shadow realm. It's not dark or 'shadowy' as its name implies, it's simply named after the source of its inhabitant's innate magic – shadows. The elves from that realm are genderless hermaphrodites and appear androgynous, but because we're all a bunch of sexists we use male pronouns when discussing them."

"But what does the rock mean?" Derek asked. He was aware of the existence of multiple realms, but hadn't been interested enough in learning the different cultures and their intricacies.

Peter smirked evilly at Stiles. "It's the first step of a very long proposal."

Stiles eyes grew wide in shock. "Come again?"

Deaton sighed and interjected before Peter could scare Stiles further. "It doesn't necessarily mean a romantic proposal. The stone represents a proposal, yes, but it can simply be a completely unromantic proposal for an alliance. The fact that they have singled you out instead of reaching out to the pack as a whole leads me to believe that they would either like to convert you to their clan or, at the very least, become an auxiliary member."

Flabbergasted, Stiles said, "They don't even know me!"

"The energy signature you unknowingly left on the pendant revealed a great deal about your person, Stiles. They have felt the essence of your character (as did every super at that auction) and have deemed it worthy of warranting a place in their clan. By accepting the stone, you have accepted a tentative alliance bond. The specific elf who gave you the stone would have introduced himself and would have to be part of the monarchy by which they are ruled."

"This is absolutely insane. I had no idea what the hell he was saying. It was complete gibberish to me. I took the stupid stone and banana without thinking." Stiles had his hands in his hair, stress gripping it. "We have to get rid of them. What spell did they use to tail you? How are they even tailing me? Can we use it to find them and get them to leave?"

For the first time since meeting the annoyingly enigmatic man, Deaton looked almost…sheepish.

"There wasn't a spell."

Confused glances.

"Then what did they use to follow you?"

"…a Cadillac."

The group was silent, needing a moment to process the statement.

"Are you saying the reason I am in this mess is because you allowed a pimp mobile to follow you across America without noticing?" Stiles' voice grew in both pitch and volume by the end of his sentence and, unnoticed by Stiles, the TV turned back on and began rapidly flipping through channels, mirroring Stiles' frantic energy.

Deaton busied himself with shuffling the stone back and forth from his left hand to his right, as if the useless fidget was of the utmost importance, and didn't answer.

"Deaton. You _suck."_ Stiles looked like his gasket was about to blow.

Watching the TV race through stations, Scott grew concerned about other potential accidental magic Stiles might do and tried to calm him down.

"Stiles, calm down." There. Scott tried.

"Calm down? Calm down?! Scott! I'm being targeted-'

"Overtured (probably romantically) or wooed, if you prefer" Peter corrected.

"-by a deranged, pointy eared psychopath-"

"a Shadow Elf: the most majestic (and perhaps deadly) of the elven species." Peter provided, "It's an honor, really."

"-who wants to abduct me away to some freaky land in another dimension!"

"Well, an Heir of Islijuary (most likely in line to the throne of Khlijuary, btw) couldn't be expected to stay in Beacon Hills. Don't be ridiculous." Peter scoffed.

Stiles whirled around to the eldest Hale, who was being creepy over by the spazzing TV and threatened, "I swear to god, if you do not Shut. The. Hell. Up. you're getting spayed."

Peter smirked and put up his hands in surrender. "It's neuter for males, fyi"

"I know, but you're such a _bitch_."

* * *

 **A/N:**

I'm kinda writing this on the fly. I just sat down and wrote this without really thinking too much, so I hope it's not stupid.

Reviews are welcome as it makes me feel less like I'm writing into the abyss :S And I'd love to know what you think.


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